


Beyond the Gate

by theangryuniverse



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M, Fluff, Headcanon, Post-Canon, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-07-24 16:48:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16179164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangryuniverse/pseuds/theangryuniverse
Summary: Five hundred years after Rin's death, a certain daiyokai lives in the midst of Kyoto, yet isolated from the world. Until one day, an unexpected visitor decides to ring his doorbell.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This the fault of KeiChanz!

In Kyoto, they only called it the Yōkai Mansion, although no one had ever seen the one that lived in it before. In fact, it even seemed as if no one lived in it at all – and were it not for the gardeners that regularly came to keep the trees and bushes tamed, it would have been easy to believe that the house was empty.

The people in the neighbourhood had often wondered about the man that lived in it. They could be sure that it was a man, as one of them, the old Iwamura Shizue that ran the convenience shop at the corner, had seen a tall, male figure exit a car and enter the lot through the heavy gates once, as she had been putting the bins out just before midnight. Of course she had told every single customer about her findings the following day, which had led to even more discussions about the mystery neighbour. Shizue was a credible source, albeit her advanced age, and as she swore by the lives of her seven cats that she had seen the man’s eyes glowing red in the dark, they were convinced that a yōkai was living among them.

That was incredible news for the entire neighbourhood. Yōkai rarely chose to live amongst humans, and most of them lived in communities of their own. But every now and then, a certain kind of humanoid yōkai as well as hanyō mingled with humanity. The people of this part of Kyoto, however, had not expected to have one of them so close nearby.

But the yōkai that lived in the mansion at the other end of the street right next to the river never showed his face. The doors and windows always remained closed, and no one ever managed to catch a glimpse of the man that old Shizue had seen. For the children living in their street, the mysterious neighbour posed an entirely different kind of fascination. On countless occasions, they had tried to climb over the fence, only to fall back into the bushes surrounding them. One night, a group of teenage boys had tried to break into the mansion, but after a few minutes only, they had returned to their friends, their faces as pale as sheets of paper. They would not speak of what they had seen, and so, all children were told by their parents to stay away from the Yōkai Mansion for their own good.

It seemed that as long as no one bothered him, the yōkai would not bother them.

And so, the people kept to themselves.

For the yōkai in question, his living situation was merely a compromise. Sesshōmaru hated nothing more than to interact with humans, but that had increasingly unavoidable over the course of the previous centuries. With the decrease in yōkai, only the most powerful remained, and even those had to make sure they did not lose themselves in a world that was dominated by humanity. A part of them chose to accept this new world as it was, and that had resulted in more hanyō. Sesshōmaru, however, had hardly changed his attitude towards humanity in the previous centuries. They were selfish, greedy, and with the rise of technology, they had begun to destroy the planet as if they had another one ready to use. He could no longer roam the lands freely, as there was more and more of it disappearing forever.

Kyoto had been smaller when he had moved in, and there had been not a soul around for a long time. Then, they had begun to expand, and one day, he had found himself surrounded by neighbours.

Not once had a representative of the city knocked on his door. They knew better than to argue with a yōkai that had been living there since 1863.

The neighbours did not annoy him much. Most of the time, they ignored him just as he ignored them. Only every now and then, children would try to climb over his fence, only to be thrown back thanks to the defensive magic that worked in this place. The teenagers were far more annoying, as it had become some sort of test of courage to try to break into his mansion. Of course, they all failed. Only a bunch of them had once encountered Ah-Un on their quest, and they had run off his lawn screaming for their mothers.

Humans were a tedious business to this Sesshōmaru, and he preferred to stay away from them.

None of them were worthy of his attention, anyway. Not since his Rin had died.

But that lay in a past long forgotten. And her memory he kept hidden away in his heart.

* * *

The tea had become cold some time ago, but Sesshōmaru was still sipping at it, ignoring the bitter taste that it left on its tongue as he focused on the book in his hands. Carefully, he turned the old pages, some of them torn, some of them almost falling apart. But he would not replace it for a new copy, merely out of sentiment. His library was old, containing books that the world deemed lost, but he had never once thought of giving them away for research purposes. Humankind mistreated everything one gave to them. Here, in his library, they would be safe until the end of time itself.

Eventually, the cup in his hands was empty, and Sesshōmaru got up, placing the book carefully on his desk as he walked out of his study to get another one. Tea was one of the few things humanity had not ruined yet, albeit the quality often differed greatly, depending on the tea’s origin. For Sesshōmaru, however, it always had to be the best blend only, and he was not shy to spend a small fortune on the finest leaves available.

It had not always been that way. Only as Rin had made tea for him each time he had come to visit her, he had learnt to like it, and sharing a cup or two with her had become his favourite part of each stay. More than that he could not have, for she had married the demon slayer’s brother. Sesshōmaru had approved of her decision, naturally. Kohaku had been a good choice for her, and, judging by the number of their children, they had made each other very happy.

Rin had led a happy, fulfilled life in the village of his brother. And when she had closed her eyes for good, Sesshōmaru had wept for her in solitude.

But these days were gone. Sesshōmaru never spoke of her, never mentioned her, and for him, it was good that way. He kept her memory locked away in his heart, allowing himself to think of her every now and then, whenever he was making tea.

But this time, a sound unheard before in this house interrupted his thoughts.

The doorbell.

Until this point, Sesshōmaru had not even been aware of its existence.

He looked up, turning his head to the left, looking towards the corridor that led to the front door, and to the intercom. Right. He had installed it a few years ago, for the people that took care of his garden.

But it was Sunday. In this age, people did not work on Sundays.

The doorbell rang a second time, and this time, Sesshōmaru put the teacup down and left the kitchen, making his way down the hallway to the intercom. The red light right next to the answer button was blinking – a clear sign that his ears had indeed not betrayed him. Someone had pressed the doorbell at the gate not only once, but twice. Demanding his attention.

Sesshōmaru huffed. Who dared to disturb him, after decades of peaceful co-existence?

Most likely, it was a nosy neighbour. Or they were trying to sell something.

But then, the doorbell rang for the third time, and this time, Sesshōmaru turned on the camera.

The person standing at the gate was small, too small for him to see their face. A child, most likely. It seemed to jump up and down, as if he or she were trying to look over the gate. Sesshōmaru raised an eyebrow in surprise. The children of the neighbourhood rarely disturbed him these days. In fact, they believed that a monster lived in this house, and so, they usually stayed away from him.

Before the little person could ring once more, Sesshōmaru had pressed the large, green button to answer.

Why, he did not know.

“Hello?”

The voice that answered him was small, shy, and gentle. The voice of a little girl, most likely.

“Uh… hello,” she said meekly, and as Sesshōmaru looked back at the screen, he could see a small hand touching the gate. “I… I kicked my ball over your fence, and I wanted to ask if I could go and get it.”

Sesshōmaru frowned even more. Over the course of the past few years, countless children had kicked their toys over his fence, and not once had one of them had the courage to just ring the doorbell to ask for it. The girl did not seem to know this. Perhaps she had just moved into this area, or she was a visitor.

It did not matter.

“I’ll be really quick!” The girl squeaked into the microphone.

Sesshōmaru huffed. What did he care about children? They were not his, after all. Why would he care about their playthings? It was their fault if they could not look after their toys themselves.

“Please!” The little girl said.

Sesshōmaru sighed and pressed the button to open the gate. “Be quick.”

“Thank you, Oji-san!” The girl squealed and as he looked up at the screen again, he could only see her hair blowing in the wind as she pushed the gates open to get her toy. Sesshōmaru let go of the button, but remained where he was, watching the black and white screen until the child appeared again, carrying a ball in her gloved hands.

Was it winter already?

Just as he was about to turn away, the girl turned around once more, waving at the camera for a second before she ran off, and out of his sight.

Sesshōmaru’s heart had skipped a beat.

For a moment, he had thought to be looking at the face of Akane, Rin’s eldest daughter.

The daiyōkai shook his head.

It was nothing but a mere illusion, he told himself as he walked back to the kitchen to continue making tea. They were dead and buried, all of them. Rin, her children, her grandchildren, and the children that came after. None of them were alive anymore, that he was sure of. He had kept an eye on them for some time, but then had lost track of them completely. It did not matter, though. The only one he would have wanted to see had died five hundred years ago. And he would never see her again.

His mind was merely playing tricks on him.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is giving me diabetes.

Over the course of the following four weeks, his doorbell was rung regularly.

It turned out that the little girl was a terrible football player – or whatever it was that she did with the ball that she kept shooting over his fence. Almost every day she would press the button at the gate, and soon, Sesshōmaru had learnt to simply press the button to open it without having to speak to her first. Each time, she would just go and grab her ball, and wave at him through the camera when she left again.

Each time, he stood by the screen, watching her until she had disappeared once more.

He was convinced by now that his mind had indeed been playing tricks on him the first time he had seen her. The girl looked in no way like Akane. No, Akane had been sturdier that age, her face rounder and her hair shorter, looking more like a boy than like a girl. The girl that kept kicking her toys over his fence looked nothing like her, with her almost princess-like features.

In another time, she would have been hidden away from the world, like a sacred treasure. But the girl’s parents did not seem to care much. Kyoto was safe, even for children.

Times had truly changed.

Of course, this Sesshōmaru did not care. Humans remained as rotten as they always had been, with very few exceptions among them. Sooner or later, they all turned for the worse. And he was sure that this girl, like every child, would sooner or later be ruined, too; sucked into a world in which greed and profit ruled above everything humanity had once deemed sensible.

As February came, Sesshōmaru realised that his doorbell had been quiet for almost two weeks. The girl had not asked to collect her toy again, and Sesshōmaru assumed that she had stopped playing with it altogether. It was the nature of children, was it not? They started one thing and dropped it again to focus on something else. Like Rin, who had been fascinated by a butterfly, only to chase after Jaken the next second.

Perhaps it was good that way. It was no good if a yōkai like him paid too much attention to the humans around him. It only got them curious, and before he knew it, he would have them gather at his gates again, like it had been many years ago.

But as long as they did not bother him, he did not bother them. A peaceful co-existence. He had never wanted more than that.

And yet, he caught himself listening to the silence, waiting for the sound of the doorbell that never came. The house remained quiet, as quiet as it had always been, and the only sound came from the clock on the wall behind him. Another reminder of his painfully long existence. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and a single year felt like a century. Somewhere on the way, Sesshōmaru had stopped caring for time. And then, when the day of Rin’s passing had come for the 500th time, the daiyōkai had begun to wonder about time itself.

To him, it seemed frozen.

To the people around him, it was racing.

* * *

 

It was almost dark as Sesshōmaru stepped outside into the garden, a pipe between his long, slender fingers as he watched the sunset. He never left the house during the day, not wanting to be seen by the people that lived around him. His appearance would have only caused unrest, after all those years that he had lived here almost anonymously. It was not that he worried about being recognised. The only name people remembered these days was the one of his most honourable father, the Inu no Taisho, who had protected the Western lands. Sesshōmaru himself had been mostly forgotten. But it was good that way. In any other case, he would not have been able to live in peace and quiet the way he did now.

After his hanyō brother’s death, Sesshōmaru was the only one left. He did not know where his mother was, or if she was still alive at all. They had never cared much for each other, anyway. No, this Sesshōmaru never felt lonely.

He had chosen this life for himself.

With the pipe in his hand he walked down the garden path to the pond where his loyal dragon was resting. Ah-Un was the only one left with him. In a world like this, yōkai like him could hardly survive. And so, Sesshōmaru kept him here, behind closed gates, protecting him from the outside world. For centuries, Ah-Un had been a loyal companion to him. But now he was old, and did not do much except for bathing in the sunlight.

As his master approached him, he raised his two heads and let out a gentle snort. Sesshōmaru nodded at him in greeting. Ah-Un had not roared once in two-hundred years, keeping quiet for the sake of his own safety and survival. Sesshōmaru pitied him.

For humanoid yōkai like himself, it was much easier. If he wanted to, he could walk down the street, buy himself a cup of coffee, and sit in the park, like a normal human being. For beasts like Ah-Un, however, the world had become more dangerous.

Sesshōmaru owed him the chance to live the rest of his life in peace.

He walked past the pond and around the corner to the elegant driveway. A single car stood in front of the house, black and shiny. The only luxury that Sesshōmaru had allowed himself these days. He had more money on the bank that he could possibly spend in a lifetime, and so, he had bought himself a car that was fast but unremarkable enough to allow him to get through the city without having people’s eyes following him constantly. But it was not the car that caught his attention that day.

There, on the driveway, lay a pink ball.

Sesshōmaru frowned. The ball was dirty, as if someone had played with it in the mud, and since it had rained in mid-January for the last time, he could tell that the ball had probably been there for some time now.

Just as Sesshōmaru went to pick it up, he could hear the sound of little feet approaching his gate.

But the doorbell never rang.

Sesshōmaru’s frown deepened, and he glanced at the gate, wondering if he were mistaken. But his ears had not been playing tricks on him. Someone was there, standing at his gate, but the sound of the doorbell never came.

Carrying the ball in his right hand, Sesshōmaru walked down the path to the gate for the first time in weeks. His hand came to rest on the wooden handle, and as he pushed the gate open, a pair of big, brown eyes stared up at him.

It was the little girl that he had always watched from the intercom. She was wearing a brown coat, thick gloves, and a knitted cap to keep her ears warm. The little girl was beaming up at him, her cheeks red from the cold, but her smile was wide.

She looked so very much like Akane.

“Oji-san!” She squeaked and jumped up and down on the spot.

Sesshōmaru raised an eyebrow. He was not her uncle, nor a friend.

“Is this your ball?” He asked.

“Yes! Thank you, Oji-san! I was ringing the bell every day but you didn’t answer!”

Sesshōmaru frowned, looking at the doorbell. Then, he reached out and pressed the button. But no sound followed.

“It must be broken,” he said and dropped the pink ball into the girl’s waiting hands.

“Oh! So you still like me, Oji-san!” The girl giggled and hugged her ball.

Sesshōmaru huffed. Who did this girl think he was?

“You have to learn not to shoot your toys over the fences of other people,” he told her. But the girl just kept grinning at him.

“But I have to! I’m becoming the bestest football player in the world!” She told him.

“Best, not bestest,” Sesshōmaru muttered and turned around again to close the gate, but the girl kept on talking.

“Next time I’ll yell really loud if I need the ball!” She said.

Sesshōmaru turned around to her once more. “Why on earth would you do that?”

She giggled. “Because the bell is broken!”

And with that she ran off again, holding her ball close to her chest. But then, just as she reached the corner, she turned around again and waved at him. “Bye, Oji-san!!” She called before turning around the corner – and gone was she.

Sesshōmaru stood there for a long moment, trying to comprehend what had just happened. The girl had not been afraid of him in the slightest. No, in fact, she kept calling him in this ridiculously childish way.

As he closed the gates behind him and made his way back to the house again, however, Sesshōmaru could not deny that his heart had skipped a beat the moment he had seen her properly for the first time. She looked indeed like Akane. The camera had only skewed the picture of her face.

But it was impossible, he told himself as he shut the front door behind him and took off his shoes. Akane was dead, gone and buried, like her mother and her siblings and those that came after them.

Rin’s spirit no longer lingered here.

The daiyōkai had no idea of how wrong he was.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going so smoothly omg

Each time she shot her ball over his fence, she would simply call for him.

And each time, Sesshōmaru would go and return the ball to her.

He was aware of how ridiculous it was. He could have just called for someone to fix the doorbell, but for some reason, he did not. Every day, he found himself reading in his study, waiting for the girl to call for him – and each time, he would open the gate for her personally, give her the ball, and receive a big smile in return.

It was ridiculous. And yet, he did not call for a technician.

Each time he saw the girl, her sight would send shivers down her spine, and he would remember the girl that he had once known. Akane had been Rin’s first born, and she had proudly presented her to him when he had come to visit the young mother and her baby. Akane had been tiny as Rin had placed her in his arms, and he had been terribly afraid of breaking her. But Rin had always trusted him, even with her own children at such a young age. Akane had been a lively child; always smiling, always running around.

Had she ever owned a ball?

Sesshōmaru could not remember.

But the girl that kept shooting her ball over his fence was not Akane. He told himself that again and again. She was just a girl that lived in the area that happened to look like her. According to the internet, which he consulted eventually, it was fairly normal that at least seven people looked almost exactly alike. That information put his mind at ease – at least for a bit. The appearance of a person was one thing, but the behaviour was something entirely different. The girl behaved exactly like Akane.

She even called him Oji-san. Albeit meaning it in a different way.

What unsettled him a little was the fact that the girl always turned up at his gate just before nightfall. A girl of her age was not supposed to be out playing at that time of the day in his opinion. And so, he had asked her one day where her parents were.

“My Mama is at work!” She had only replied and had run off again, only to wave at him again, as usual.

What kind of mother let her child play on a dark playground, all on her own?

Was there no father to look after the child? No grandparents, no friend of the family?

The meadow next to Sesshōmaru’s mansion was regarded as a playground for the local children, despite lacking any play equipment. Instead, there was the river right next to it, which Sesshōmaru regarded as even more dangerous to children than the darkness. And this meadow was where the little girl always played with her ball, completely on her own, until a car turned up to pick her up. That much he knew already from watching her from across the fence.

It was not that he worried about her, Sesshōmaru told himself over and over again. He was merely concerned about his peaceful living arrangement. If something happened to her, the police would come, and without any doubt, they would knock on his door as well. People were always quick to accuse yōkai of crimes. Not that he cared – they would never dare to threaten him.

And yet, he kept watching over her. And so did Ah-Un.

The daiyōkai’s loyal companion had begun to watch the meadow through a hole in the fence, and Sesshōmaru knew that he would alert him if something was wrong. But the dragon always remained silent.

Sometimes, the girl would not walk away from him immediately. Every now and then, she looked up at him with the curiosity that only children possessed, and leave a comment.

“Why do you have white hair?” She asked him, tilting her head aside.

“It is silver, not white,” he replied.

“Why, are you old? Are you like my grandpa?”

Sesshōmaru huffed. “I am a yōkai. That’s why.”

The girl looked at him with wide eyes, and for a moment, Sesshōmaru was sure that she would run away crying. But then, she began to beam at him as if he had just told her that Christmas had been accelerated. “That’s so cool!”

‘Cool’ was the last thing that Sesshōmaru had expected, but before he could say anything, the girl had run off again towards the meadow. Again, she turned around to him again just before she reached the corner, and waved at him. “Bye, Oji-san!!”

Sesshōmaru shook his head in disbelief and closed the gates again.

* * *

 

It happened on the third day of April.

Sesshōmaru sat on the patio, enjoying the last rays of sunshine with a book in his hands as Ah-Un began to roar. At the sound of something falling into the river, Sesshōmaru knew that something had gone terribly wrong.

The daiyōkai shot down the garden and jumped over the fence with inhuman strength and speed, just in time to catch a glimpse of the girl’s knitted cap that she always wore, disappearing in the powerful stream. It had been raining heavily the past few day, the river was almost overflowing and the ground was slippery. But Sesshōmaru did not care.

Before he knew what he was doing he had jumped into the river after her, grabbing her by the collar of her jacket as he pulled her out of the water, dragging her up the river bank. Panic spread through his entire body as she lay limp in his arms, but suddenly, she coughed, spitting water all over his shirt as she opened her eyes again, looking around in confusion.

Sesshōmaru had never been so terrified before.

Then, after what seemed an eternity to him, the girl looked up at him, and a smile spread over her face, as if nothing had happened at all. “Oji-san!”

Sesshōmaru fell back onto the grass with a deep sigh. “Are you mad?” He barked as he let go of her, and she knelt down in front of him in the grass. “Why did you jump into the river?! You could have drowned!”

“But you came to get me, Oji-san!” She exclaimed, patting his knees.

“Where is your mother?” He asked her angrily. “I’ll tell her! How could she leave you here just before nightfall right next to a bloody river?!”

Suddenly, the girl became very quiet, and she sat down in front of him, looking anywhere but at him.

“My Mama is always working,” she muttered. “Because we don’t have much money and my Papa is a baka.”

That shift in behaviour he had not expected, and Sesshōmaru found himself at loss for words. The cheerful attitude that he knew of her was completely gone. Instead, the girl sitting in front of him seemed shy and sad.

The sound of a suddenly stopping car broke the silence between them, and the shocked cry of a woman caused Sesshōmaru’s heart to skip a full beat.

“Ayame!”

It was her voice.

The woman that came running down the slippery hill seemed of no exceptional beauty, perhaps average, to say the least. But to Sesshōmaru, she seemed like an angel, descended from Heaven, and with every step that she came closer to him, he could see more of her face. And with every moment that passed, he realised more and more how breathtaking she was, despite the sheer horror in her eyes as she rushed to grab her daughter.

“Mama!” The girl, apparently called Ayame, squeaked and got up from the floor, jumping up and down as her mother finally reached her and pulled her into her arms, not caring about the child’s wet clothing.

“Oh my god, Ayame!” The woman breathed, pressing her against her chest. “You silly girl…”

“I’m alright, Mama!” Ayame declared. “Oji-san pulled me out!”

“He… wh-who…?” The woman sniffed, finally looking up, and for the first time, brown eyes met golden ones.

It was like looking at a photograph of the woman he had once been forced to let go. But it was more than that, more than just a picture. This woman was real, she was moving, and breathing, and acting, and speaking. And she was there, right in front of him.

Her face was just like hers. The shape of her face, the little dimples in her cheeks, the small mouth with her full lips. Only her eyes were different. Instead of the warmth he had always found in them, they were full of worry – but that was only natural in a situation like this one.

Sesshōmaru stared at her, unable to move.

He did not have to.

The woman let go of her daughter and bowed deeply to him, still sobbing. “Oh my god, thank you, thank you so much, Sir!” She breathed. “You saved my little girl from drowning!”

Even the sound of her cries was just like the ones he had heard from Rin, when she had sought refuge in his arms after a fight with her husband.

Sesshomaru shook his head vigorously. She was not her, it could not be. Rin was dead, gone and buried, and where her grave had once been a shrine now stood, ironically taken care of by the family of his brother’s wife, the miko Kagome.

And yet, she seemed to sit right in front of him.

It could not be a coincidence that she looked like her, sounded like her, acted like her. It could not be a coincidence that her daughter was named Ayame, almost sounding like Akane.

Sesshōmaru pulled himself together and stood.

“Well, nothing happened, at least,” he said. “But I fear that her ball has become a victim of the flood.”

The woman looked at Ayame in shock. “You jumped into the river because of that bloody ball?!”

“No!” Ayame exclaimed. “I slipped and fell! Look!” She pointed at her completely ruined pair of jeans. “But Oji-san pulled me out!” The girl turned around to Sesshōmaru again. “Thank you, Oji-san!”

Finally, the woman that looked so much like Rin stood, bowing to Sesshōmaru again. “I cannot express with words how grateful I am, Sir,” she said. “I always told her to stay away from the river and that she should not play alone but I couldn’t be there to watch her and-“

Sesshōmaru raised his hand. “You do not have to justify your actions to me,” he said, averting his gaze. “The girl needs dry clothes, I believe. Take her home before she catches a cold.”

“Right,” the woman sniffed and grabbed her bag from the ground. “Ayame, go to the car, yes?”

Ayame nodded and beamed at Sesshōmaru again. “Bye, Oji-san!” And with that she turned around and ran up the small hill towards the little, shabby car. Her mother, however, stayed where she was.

“You must think me a terrible mother,” she said sadly, and the mere sound of it made Sesshōmaru’s heart clench painfully in his chest. A voice he had deemed long gone was too much for him, too much to handle for anyone.

“I do not,” Sesshōmaru murmured. “She said that you were working hard. That honours you.”

She looked at him in surprise, swallowing thickly, and yet, her face was red from shame.

“I cannot thank you enough, Sir,” she said quietly. “How could I possibly show you my gratitude…”

“You could join me for a cup of tea.”

The way she looked at him reminded him of the day Rin had come to him in the woods. The moment she had approached him, he had known that her heart was heavy, and that he was the only one to bring her relief. That day, he had told her to marry Kohaku, and that she would be happy with him if she accepted his proposal.

That day, he had let her go, and she had received the life that had been best for her.

But this time, the situation was an entirely different one.

“Not today, of course,” Sesshōmaru said. “And only if you like, obviously.”

She would surely decline. Most humans accepted yōkai, but they would never mingle with them. Especially not if they had little children to take care of.

“I would… like that very much, Sir.”

Her voice was calm and gentle, and as Sesshōmaru turned his head again he found her smiling a little bit. His heart skipped another beat.

But then, she averted her gaze again, reaching into her bag and pulling out a business card.

“This is my number,” she said as she gave it to him. “Of course I will pay for the cleaning and replacement of your clothes, as well.”

Sesshōmaru looked down at himself, and realised that he was wet from head to toe, and that his clothing, clinging to him like a second skin, was torn in some places.

“Do not worry about it,” he said as he accepted the business card from her.

Once more, the woman bowed, and Sesshōmaru watched as she rushed up the hill to her car. As she drove off, Ayame was waving at him.

Sesshōmaru looked down at the business card, turning it in his hand to search for her name and address. The daiyōkai froze on the spot.

The woman’s name was Watanabe Rin.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayame = zero fucks given.

Sesshōmaru sat on the floor with the phone in his hands, his eyes fixed on the business card on the table in front of him.

Again and again, he tried to think of Rin, the one that he had once known, as well as the one that he had just met. He tried to compare them, yes, he had even tried to draw a sketch of both of their faces, only to realise that they were exactly alike. No, his eyes had not betrayed him. Ayame’s mother carried her features, as well as her name.

And yet, she was an entirely different person.

Sesshōmaru was no fool. He did not believe in magic. As a yōkai, these things were beneath him. But he knew that only a fool would underestimate the powers that worked between Heaven and Hell, and that they usually manifested here, on Earth. Perhaps it was some sick joke of a certain god that had decided to torture him a little by placing that woman right in front of him, after he had finally managed to come to terms with an existence without her.

He had seen so many things in his long life that very little could surprise him. He had witnessed the powers of Tenseiga, bringing the dead back to life. He had walked on the path of the Netherworld, had destroyed monsters that people these days only knew from horror stories. None of it had unsettled him much.

And yet, there he was, struggling with making a simple phone call.

She had accepted his invitation for tea straight away. Sesshōmaru cursed himself for even suggesting such a thing. But the words had come out of his mouth before he had even known what he was doing. Truly, he only had himself to blame for this.

Perhaps she had already changed her mind again. It would only be natural. Why would she want to go out for a cup of tea with him? After all, he was a yōkai, and people like her tended to stay away from creatures like him.

Oh, fuck it.

He dialled her number and brought the phone up to his ear. For a moment, he was sure that she would not even pick up. She would not recognise his number and, being a sensible young woman, she would ignore it. But just as he was about to hang up, she answered, and her voice reached his ear.

“Hello?”

Her voice was soft and clear, like Rin’s voice, albeit with a hint of nervousness in it.

Sesshōmaru’s nails dug into the wooden table.

“Good evening, Watanabe-san,” he said. “I just wanted to ask-“

“Oh, it’s you!” She called out. “Wait a second, yes?”

Sesshōmaru frowned, but kept silent as he listened to her footsteps and a door being shut.

“Sorry, I just had to change rooms,” she said, and Sesshōmaru’s heart ached painfully at its sound. She sounded just like her, even the way she pronounced certain syllables was exactly the same.

Why did the kami punish him this way?

Oh, what a cruel sense of humour they had.

“I just put Ayame into bed again,” she explained. “She-“

“Yes, Ayame,” Sesshōmaru said and cleared his throat a little. “How is she?”

“Oh, she… she just caught a cold,” her mother answered. “Nothing too serious, of course. It was to expect after… after falling into such cold water.”

Sesshōmaru opened his mouth to reply as suddenly Ayame’s voice reached his ear. Apparently, she had escaped her bed and was not tired enough, like all children claimed to be when they were supposed to sleep. Rin’s children had been just the same.

“Mama! Mama! Is that Oji-san?” She asked excitedly. “Can I? Can I?”

“Well, I-“

“Pleeease! I’ll go to bed then real quick!”

Her mother sighed. “Just for a moment,” she said, and before Sesshōmaru could protest he had a child shouting into the phone.

“Hello Oji-san!” She exclaimed. “I got a cold!”

Sesshōmaru pulled himself together. “Yes, I heard about that.”

“And I got chicken soup and I watched tv all day and then Mama made noodles!”

“Go back to bed,” Sesshōmaru huffed.

“Yes, Oji-san!” She chirped. A moment later, her mother’s voice answered again.

“I’m sorry, she can be a little much to handle sometimes,” she said with a soft laugh. “But she just won’t shut up about you, Sir. She is very grateful, and so am I.”

Sesshōmaru shifted on his cushion. “There is no need to thank me,” he assured her and cleared his throat again.

“But I would like to, Sir,” she replied. “Even if it is just by joining you for a cup of tea and paying for the replacement of your clothing. Also, about that. I…” She suddenly seemed a little uncomfortable. “Would it be alright if I paid for them next month? I need to pay the gas bill and get new school books for Ayame and-“

“You really do not have to do that,” Sesshōmaru interrupted her calmly. “They are just clothes. Spend your money on more important things instead.”

For a moment, it was quiet between them, and Sesshōmaru wondered if she had just hung up. But then, he heard her sigh, and it was one of relief and shame at the same time.

“Nonetheless, I would like to thank you for saving my daughter, Sir,” she said. “Where… where would you like to go for tea, then?”

So she had not forgotten. And she did not decline his invitation. Sesshōmaru shifted a little on his cushion, glad that she could not see him like this. Why was he even behaving in such a way? It was just tea, for the love of god.

“There is a tea house in Higashiyama that I can highly recommend,” he said. “By the station.”

“Higashiyama?” She said. “That sounds good. But I cannot tell when Ayame will-“

“There is no need to rush, Watanabe-san,” Sesshōmaru said calmly. “Call me when you have found a suitable date and time for yourself.”

“Y-Yes, I will,” she said, and Sesshōmaru believed to hear her voice tremble a little. Was she afraid? But then, he heard her yawn, and he realised that she was only tired. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry. It was such a long day, you see.”

“I understand,” Sesshōmaru said. “I hope your daughter will feel better soon, and that you get some rest, too.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “Um, this is a rather embarrassing thing to ask, but… I realised that I do not even know your name and Ayame keeps calling you Oji-san and-“

“It is Sesshōmaru,” he said, and saying his own name felt strange on his tongue. He had not said it in quite a while. But then again, he had not introduced himself to anyone in a very long time.

“Oh, right, then,” she said. “I will call you then, Sesshōmaru-san.”

“Thank you. Have a good evening.”

“You too.”

He hung up before he could say more, and he dropped his phone as if it were hot and burning his hand. Only then Sesshōmaru realised how rapidly his heart was beating in his chest, and that his hands were shaking. All of this was happening only because he had heard her voice, and he could barely deal with it.

Sesshōmaru forced himself to take deep, even breaths. He would meet with her, just this once, to convince himself that she was not her. And then, he would be able to continue his life the way it had always been. He would tell her to let her child play somewhere else, hell, he would even pay for the girl’s babysitter if he had to, if it only kept the woman away from him.

But was that truly what he wanted?

Hearing her voice had affected him more than he had imagined. It was almost like a drug, and he wanted more of it. He wanted to hear her speak, laugh, sing, all of it at once. Even if it drove him insane.

That night, Sesshōmaru lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He tried to remember the days he had spent with Rin in the forest, when she had become a young woman. She had been always so very cheerful, and she had done most of the talking. Oh, he had loved listening to her. She would sit next to him and make a flower crown for Ah-Un whilst telling him about the latest news from the village. He had already sensed back then that she was about to fall in love with Kohaku, and he had not stopped her, although it had broken his heart.

But Rin had been happy. That had been more than enough for him.

Now Sesshōmaru realised that he missed her still. The emptiness her death had left in his heart had become bigger and bigger with every day, and now that he had seen _her_ , he felt it even more. It was painful, but also a reminder that he was still alive.

Over the course of the centuries, Sesshōmaru had learnt that he could live without her.

However, he was not sure if he even wanted that.

* * *

 

His phone remained silent for almost a week, and Sesshōmaru was convinced that Watanabe Rin had changed her mind for good. He told himself that it did not bother him – whilst in fact, he kept glancing at the damned thing every few minutes, even after five days of silence.

Sesshōmaru tried to distract himself. He rearranged his library. He ordered books. He threw out old furniture. He made countless cups of tea. He even watched television, only to shake his head at the ridiculous shows they were broadcasting. But at least, it kept his mind occupied for a while.

Nonetheless, he dropped his cup of tea the moment his phone rang again and her name appeared on the screen.

Ignoring the mess he had made, Sesshōmaru grabbed his phone and answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Oji-san!!!!!”

Sesshōmaru had to hold the phone away from his ear as Ayame suddenly squealed into her mother’s phone – probably jumping up and down on the spot again.

“Ayame!” He could hear her mother say, and a moment later, Watanabe Rin greeted him with a slightly stressed ‘hello’. “I’m sorry, she got hold of my phone again.”

The sound of her voice sent cold shivers down Sesshōmaru’s spine, but the daiyōkai forced himself to remain as calm as always. “It’s fine,” he said. “I assume that she is feeling better.”

“Oh, yes, she is,” her mother answered. “I just wanted to ask if tomorrow afternoon at five would be suitable for you? I’m sorry that this comes at such short notice, but I was not sure if I would have a free afternoon.”

“Of course,” Sesshōmaru replied immediately. “Five o’clock suits me very well.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful, then. Should we just meet at the station, and – Ayame, for god’s sake, stop tugging on my trousers.”

“I believe that is the best idea, yes,” Sesshōmaru answered, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Five o’clock at Higashiyama Station.”

“Good, then,” she said, sounding relieved. “I’m looking forward to it, Sesshōmaru-san.”

“Me as well,” Sesshōmaru said, his heart aching in his chest as she said his name.

“Then… see you tomorrow.”

“Yes. Tomorrow, then.”

As he hung up, he realised that he had reached right into the spilt tea and that the back of his shirt was wet, but he did not care. Clothing could be washed.

It would only happen this one time, he told himself as he went to the bathroom, taking off his shirt on the way. He would meet with her, allow her to thank him for saving the girl, and then they would say goodbye again. For good, this time.

It was no good to long for the past, and for the things that had vanished with it.

And yet, for the first time in decades, this Sesshōmaru was looking forward to a new day.


	5. Five

As Sesshōmaru stood outside the station of Higashiyama, he remembered once more why he preferred to stay away from the bustling city.

It was incredibly _loud_.

He leant against the wall with his phone in his hands as he watched the masses of people walk past him, making their way to the trains, to the exits, and into the small shops and restaurants that offered the travellers everything they could possibly need. For Sesshōmaru, however, it was a nightmare become reality. It was nothing like Kyoto had once been in the past – still full of people, but with a certain grace and elegance. Nowadays, it was all about becoming richer, becoming faster, becoming stronger. And those that could not keep up ended up at the most forsaken places.

Sesshōmaru did not even want to imagine what it was like in Tokyo.

He had come a little earlier, wanting to be punctual, but now it was already two minutes past five. Sesshōmaru was sure that this meant nothing. Trains could not always be on time, and it surely would take only a few more minutes until she arrived. And so, he took a deep breath, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. It was a silly habit, but it kept him occupied, at least. And, unlike humans, he did not have to worry about health damage.

Minutes passed, and two minutes became ten, and then fifteen, and, eventually, twenty-five. Sesshōmaru was becoming more and more impatient with every moment that passed, and with every minute he became more and more convinced that she would not come. There was no other explanation, after all. The trains were on time, he had checked that. There were no repairs taking place on the tracks. And therefore, the only possible explanation was that she had decided not to come.

Perhaps it was for the best, he thought as he tossed away his fourth cigarette, earning a deep frown from a woman that was walking past him. The sooner he got over their encounter, the better.

But just as he was about to turn away to call a taxi that would bring him home, he could hear the familiar squeal of a little girl.

“Oji-san!!!”

He turned around, freezing on the spot as he saw a young woman and a child running down the busy street towards him. Ayame was waving at him excitedly, while her mother was clutching her bag tightly whilst making sure her daughter would not run in front of a car. Sesshōmaru held his breath, waiting patiently as they came to stand before him, gasping for air.

“I’m so sorry!” Ayame’s mother gasped. “We… we had to get off the train four stations earlier… the ticket price… increased since the last time I checked…”

“We did a big run!” Ayame told him excitedly, jumping up and down on the spot again. She did not seem to be out of breath at all, unlike her mother, who was now gripping the nearest lamp post.

“Are you alright?” Sesshōmaru asked, suddenly far more worried than he had thought he could be.

But she merely nodded. “Yes…” She breathed, standing up straight and pulling herself together. Her cheeks were reddened from the run, and her hair was slightly messy, but to Sesshōmaru, she could not have seemed more beautiful. “We had to get off the train early. Otherwise I would not be able to pay for the return ticket.”

Sesshōmaru knew that living in a city like Kyoto was expensive, but he had not been aware that people even struggled with paying for something as simple as local train tickets.

“We could have met at another place,” he said, but she just shook her head. “No, no, it’s fine, really,” she assured him and adjusted her clothing before taking Ayame’s hand again. “I have never been to this part of Kyoto before, to be honest, so I don’t know where to go.”

“The tea house is right around the corner,” Sesshōmaru said and stepped aside. “Please.”

And so, they began to make their way down the road. Neither of them said a word, but Ayame was babbling away happily and filling the silence. “I got a big homework today, Oji-san! I write about the coolest thing that ever happened to me and I will write about you pulling me from the river!”

“Ayame,” her mother sighed. “This is not something you should be proud of. Have you even thanked him for saving you?”

“Yes! Yes I did!” Ayame exclaimed, and as her mother threw a questioning glance at Sesshōmaru, he nodded lightly.

“Well,” the woman sighed. “At least that.”

Eventually, they arrived at the tea house, and as they entered, they were greeted by a skinny man with huge eyes and grey hair right at the door.

“Eh, Sesshōmaru,” he said, nodding at him. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Tōtōsai,” Sesshōmaru murmured, acknowledging his presence with a nod as he walked past him. “A table for three.”

“Three?” Tōtōsai repeated. “Why, are you coming with-“ He trailed off as Sesshōmaru’s company entered the tea house, and the old yōkai's jaw dropped.

“Is that-“

“A table for three, Tōtōsai, if you please,” Sesshōmaru said sharply. “Preferably in a more private part of this… etablissement.”

Tōtōsai seemed to understand immediately, and he shuffled down the aisle between the chairs and tables towards a more secluded part of his tea house that he had been running for almost 300 years now. Sesshōmaru accepted the table with a nod and sat down, ordering the finest tea available for them whilst Ayame and her mother took a seat. A moment later, however, Ayame discovered the play area in the corner, and she dashed off, leaving Sesshōmaru and her mother behind at the table.

Tōtōsai returned with the tea before the awkward silence between them could become any more uncomfortable, and as Sesshōmaru thanked him, he noticed that Tōtōsai was openly staring at Rin.

“Ye know,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that ye look-“

“I think that you have other customers to attend to, Tōtōsai,” Sesshōmaru said, a little calmer this time. “Thank you for the tea.”

Tōtōsai raised an eyebrow. As far as he could remember, Sesshōmaru had never thanked him for anything.

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “Call me if you need anything, yeah?”

Sesshōmaru sighed as Tōtōsai finally walked away, reaching for his tea. Simultaneously, his companion did the same.

They sat at the table in comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching the steam rise from their cups. Eventually, it was Sesshōmaru who chose to speak first. The sooner they finished this, the better. He would only share a cup of tea with her and then return to his life. But just as he opened his mouth, she spoke, and although her voice was quiet and gentle, he could hear her.

“You must think me an awful mother for leaving her alone all the time,” she said, looking down at the cup of tea in her hands. “I work ten hours a day, you see. But I do not earn enough to play for a babysitter or a playgroup that she could attend after school. The sister of my boss lives in your neighbourhood, and she said that she would watch her, but Ayame keeps running away from her place, saying she doesn’t like it there. So I told her… I told her that she should stay at least on the playground…” She covered her face with her hands. “She is so stubborn. I wish I could just send her to a playgroup where she would be safe and looked after…”

Sesshōmaru frowned deeply. He had not wanted to upset the woman by meeting with her, and yet, she was sitting in front of him, almost hyperventilating.

“You do not justify your actions to me, Watanabe-san,” Sesshōmaru said calmly, fighting against the urge to reach across the table to take her hand. “You are clearly trying your best to be a good mother for her. Ayame speaks highly of you.”

She lowered her hands, looking at him in surprise, as if she could not believe that someone would praise her – let alone her own daughter.

“She told me that you work long hours and that you are the only one looking after her,” Sesshōmaru said. “There is nothing shameful in that.”

Just then, Ayame squeaked happily and ran through the room to their table, holding a doll in her hands. “Mama, look! I braideded her hair!”

“Braided, darling,” her mother said and gently stroked her cheek. “That looks lovely. Well done.”

“Look, Oji-san!” Ayame grinned, showing him the doll.

“Ayame, we talked about this,” her mother said calmly. “He has a name.”

Ayame frowned, tilting her head to the side as she looked at Sesshōmaru, as if she could not believe that he actually had a name that was not ‘oji-san’. “Huh?” She frowned even more. “What is your name, then?”

“It is Sesshōmaru,” the daiyōkai replied curtly.

Ayame looked at him for a long moment, and Sesshōmaru was not sure what was going on in that little head of hers. “Se..shamu?” She said slowly, but before he or her mother could correct her, she smiled, showing off the gap of a missing tooth. “Seshamu-oji-san!” And with that she ran off to the play area again with the doll in her arms.

Her mother smiled apologetically at him. “As I said, she can be rather stubborn,” she said.

“I know,” Sesshōmaru murmured. “I mean…. I used to know a girl just like her. Just as stubborn. Her name was Akane.” He took a sip from his tea once more. “Look, Watanabe-san-“

“Oh, please call me Rin,” she said. “I mean… I’m Watanabe-san all day long, for everyone at work.”

It was as if Sesshōmaru had just swallowed a large chunk of ice. All this time, he had tried to keep that name away from her, to keep her different from _her,_ but all of a sudden, the wall that he had been building carefully between these two seemed to collapse. And there she was, sitting in front of him.

A woman named Rin.

“Where do you work?” Sesshōmaru asked in a hoarse voice, as it was the only thing he could focus on right now – his mind felt as if everything he had planned to say to her had been erased from it.

“I work for an estate agent,” Rin said. “It is an office job only… the only thing I could get without a degree from university. I had Ayame very early, you see.” She looked over her shoulder, watching her daughter now construct a tower with the building blocks. “And her father is useless. I don’t even know where he is at the moment. I don’t want her to meet him. He would only confuse her.” Rin took a deep breath. “I might have to work very hard every day and not have time for myself, but I’m doing everything I can to give Ayame the life she deserves.” She grabbed the cup and took another sip from her tea, her hand clutching the cup tightly.

Sesshōmaru inclined his head to her. “I can see that you are doing very well,” he said. “Your daughter seems happy. My father used to say that a child’s happiness should come before everything else.”

His father. He had been thinking of him frequently these days. Oh, he knew what Tōga would have had to say to such a situation. He would have told Sesshōmaru to follow his heart – whatever that meant.

He sighed, only then realising that Rin was looking at him with curiosity.

“You are a yōkai,” she said softly. “You must have seen many things in your life.”

Sesshōmaru smiled sadly. “More than you could possibly imagine,” he said, drinking the rest of his tea before he continued. “You see…”

“Is anything the matter?” Rin asked with a soft frown, clasping her hands on her lap. “Are you not feeling well?”

She was just like her. She had always been able to read in him as if he were an open book, and this Rin was not any different.

Sesshōmaru was no fool. He knew that reincarnation was not just a spooky concept that humans believed in. It was real, and he had witnessed it in form of Kagome, the wife of his hanyō brother, who had been the reincarnation of that miko. Kagome had been born 500 years after Kikyō's death. Time was therefore not an important factor.

“You remind me of someone that I once knew,” Sesshōmaru said eventually, and he was surprised at how calm he suddenly was. “A long time ago. Your appearance, your behaviour, even your name…” He looked down at his empty cup. “It is all the same.”

Sesshōmaru was sure that she would now get up and leave. And yes, it was surely for the best. It was unnatural to see those that were supposed to be dead. It was against every force that worked between Heaven and Hell.

But this Rin did no such thing.

Instead, she began to speak again. “It sounds crazy, I know,” she said softly. “But I had an ancestor called Rin. According to my grandfather, she was a healer during the Sengoku period and… and it was said that she was friendly to yōkai. That she even had an intimate relationship with-“

“No.” Sesshōmaru had gripped the cup tightly, the porcelain already cracking as he forced himself to stay calm. “We never… had that kind of relationship. She was happily married and I was just…”

Rin looked at him in awe, as if he had just told her the secret for eternal life. She did not seem shocked at all.

“It was you,” she whispered. “Oh my. That is… so… so…”

Sesshōmaru looked away.

“… incredible!”

Of all reactions that she could have had, this was certainly not what Sesshōmaru had expected.

He looked up, looking at her face of a woman that was smiling widely at him in sheer excitement. “History was my favourite subject at school!” She told him eagerly. “And I always wanted to know more about my ancestors! What was she like? That Rin that came before me?”

Sesshōmaru reached for the teapot, refilling their cups carefully as he tried to find the right words for what he wanted to say. In the end, he realised, he could only go with the truth.

“She was the most precious thing in the world to me,” he murmured as he added some sugar to his tea. “She was… smart and clever and witty. She had a great sense of humour. And oh, she was… she was so stubborn…” As he spoke, he could see Rin in his mind, her big smile as she approached him for the first time as a child, with bruises all over her little face. And yet, despite the pain she had surely felt, she had been smiling. “She married when she was nineteen. A demon slayer, ironically. And she worked as a healer in the village…”

The Rin in front of him had been listening attentively. But then, as he trailed off, she spoke again.

“You miss her very much,” she said. “And seeing me is like looking at her, and that must be very… difficult.”

Sesshōmaru laughed dryly. “You have no idea,” he murmured, shaking his head.

Just then, Ayame squealed again. “Mama, look! Seshamu oji-san, look!”

She was pointing at the tower she had built, and Rin smiled softly. “Well done, darling. Can you build our house now?”

Ayame nodded eagerly, promptly destroying her tower.

Sesshōmaru looked down at his tea. He had revealed more of himself than he had intended, things that he had kept locked away in his heart for a very long time. But for some reason, telling her all these things had felt so natural, as if he had been talking to an old friend.

“Do you believe in reincarnation, Sesshōmaru-san?” She asked him eventually.

Sesshōmaru sighed, leaning back against the chair. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I cannot ignore what my eyes tell me, you see.”

Rin nodded. “Indeed,” she said softly, reaching for her tea once more to take a sip.

“Rin, I…” Sesshōmaru ran a hand through his hair with a deep sigh. “I know that you are not her, and that you…”

“Quite right,” Rin said softly. “I cannot replace her for you, Sesshōmaru-san.”

“I did not mean that,” Sesshōmaru replied. “I was wondering if… if you wanted to… I don’t know…”

Rin tilted her head to the side. “Meet again? Yes. I would like that very much. You could tell me more about this Rin that is my ancestor.”

She had said it before he had been even able to think about it. But she was right. It was what he wanted. He wanted to see this Rin and talk about the other – for how long he did not know, perhaps until the pain passed.

He did not protest.

* * *

 

It was dark already when they left the teahouse again, and Sesshōmaru called a taxi for them, handing the driver a generous sum. Rin protested, but Sesshōmaru would not hear any of it.

“A woman and her child should not walk home in the dark,” he said calmly.

Rin bowed deeply to him. “Thank you, Sesshōmaru-san,” she said. “I… I really don’t know how to thank you again…”

“Your company is enough,” he said. “You should get into the car before it starts to rain.”

Rin nodded, and she helped Ayame to get into the back of the taxi.

“One more thing,” Sesshōmaru said as Rin was about to get in herself. “She can play in my garden if she wants to. That is safer than the meadow next to the river.”

Rin blinked in surprise. “I… thank you,” she said, blushing deeply.

Sesshōmaru stepped back, inclining his head to her in greeting as she eventually got into the car.

“Bye, Seshamu Oji-san!!” Ayame cheered, waving at him before the door of the car was finally shut and the taxi drove off, disappearing between the sheer flood of cars of the streets of Kyoto.

Only when he could not see them anymore, Sesshōmaru hailed a taxi for himself. Only then, he allowed himself to give in to his emotions, burying his face in his hands. Oh, what had he done?

It was foolish.

And yet, it felt so wonderful.


	6. Six

A few days passed, and Sesshōmaru called an electrician to fix his doorbell.

He watched the man through the kitchen window as he worked, only meeting him at the door to receive the bill from him. No, he would not have Ayame yell for him until he opened the door for her. She – or her mother – could ring the doorbell to reach him, and it would cause much less attention than a child screaming his name across a fence. He knew that the neighbours would sooner or later notice the rising activity around the house, and he had no intention to have them stick their noses into things that were none of their business as long as he knew ways to avoid that.

The day Ayame came to stay with him for the first time, Sesshōmaru could barely sit still. Every few minutes, he threw a glance at the intercom, waiting for the familiar sound of the doorbell, and then, as it finally came, he rushed to the door, pressing the button to turn on the camera. Immediately, he calmed down again. It was only Ayame, without her mother, and she was already grinning into the camera. Sighing in relief, Sesshōmaru let her in, and he opened the front door for her.

“Can I play in the garden?” She asked him eagerly. “Please, Oji-san!”

“Yes, you can,” Sesshōmaru said. “But only in this part,” He gestured to his right. “The other side is private.” And it was Ah-Un’s realm.

“Okay, Oji-san!”

She ran off before he could say anything else, but he knew that this was not needed. He had put the box with the toys the other children had kicked over his fence over the course of the years outside for her, so that they would keep Ayame entertained. He watched her through the window of his living room, how she kicked the balls against the garden wall, picked flowers, or simply just lay in the grass and watched the clouds.

Akane had often done so in the late afternoon, when her mother had no longer needed her to help with household tasks. Oftentimes, he had arrived in the village just to find Akane lying in the grass, watching the clouds and giving them names. Sometimes, she had explained it to him, and he had always listened patiently.

After a while, he could hear small footsteps in the hallway, and as he looked up, Ayame had appeared in the doorframe.

“I need to wee!”

Sesshōmaru blinked in surprise.

“The bathroom is around the corner,” he said. Did the child expect him to follow her?

But Ayame had already walked down the hall to the bathroom, and he heard the door being shut.

Shaking his head, Sesshōmaru returned to his work. It had taken him some time to find what he had been looking for, but eventually, he had found the documents in a small chest in the corner. The parchment was old and frail, but he had always taken great care of it, and that was why it had survived until this day and remained readable. The handwriting on it was his own, with occasional remarks on the sides. A long time ago, he had started to write all of it down – the names and dates of Rin’s family. And there, on the top of the parchment, was her name, right next to Kohaku’s. Below them, the names of their children: Akane, Hiro, Haruhi, Daikichi, Saya. And below their children, the names of their grandchildren. The list continued, lasting until the early 1850s. After that, Sesshōmaru had lost track of them.

It seemed that he had found them again just at the right time.

Sesshōmaru sighed deeply and lifted his gaze again, looking at Rin’s name. She had been 81 when she had died, an impressive age for a woman of her time. She had died in her sleep, according to her children. When he had come to her funeral, they had allowed him to see her one more time.

She had been smiling.

“What is that?”

Ayame’s sudden question almost gave Sesshōmaru a heart attack, and he turned his head to look at her. She was standing behind him, peeking over his shoulder with the shameless curiosity that only children possessed.

“That is a family tree,” Sesshōmaru replied.

“A tree?” Ayame repeated with a frown on her little forehead. “Doesn’t look like a tree to me!”

Sesshōmaru sighed. “It is a tree in a figurative sense.”

“In a figuty sense?”

“Nevermind,” Sesshōmaru muttered and put the parchment back into the chest, covering it with a piece of silk.

Ayame watched him curiously as he put it away, then she let her eyes wander over the large shelves that were filled with countless books. “This is like a lababy!”

Sesshōmaru forced himself to not sigh audibly. “Library,” he corrected her as he put the chest back into the corner. “Shouldn’t you be playing outside?”

“It’s raining!” She replied with a shrug and pointed at the window. And indeed, it had begun to rain, and it had become rather windy as well.

If he let her play in the garden during this weather, she would surely catch a cold. And Rin would certainly not approve of that.

But how did one entertain a child nowadays?

With Rin’s children, it had been easy. They had been constantly playing with their siblings or with the other children from the village. The little ones had always stayed near Rin, and every now and then, she had put them down for a nap. But Ayame was too old for that, surely. The girl was probably six, maybe seven.

What did children of this age do these days?

“Can I watch TV?” Ayame asked suddenly, looking up at him with the brightest of smiles.

Sesshōmaru silently thanked the inventor of television for his service to parents and carers around the globe.

But then, he froze.

Had he just called himself Ayame’s carer?

He was not even responsible for the child! He had only agreed to let her play in his garden. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Are you okay?” She asked suddenly, tugging on his trousers. “Seshamu Oji-san?”

Sesshōmaru was immediately pulled out of his thoughts.

“Go and watch TV,” he said, moving away from her, but she had already let go of his trousers again to run to the living room next door. She almost jumped onto the sofa he had bought a while ago, turning on the television and promptly finding the children’s channel.

Rin surely would not blame her for letting her watch television. She surely knew that he was not exactly a children’s person, and that he did not have the means to keep a child entertained for hours. It was better if she stayed indoors and in front of the television instead of catching another cold in the rain.

Two hours later, as Rin came to pick her up, they found Ayame asleep on the sofa, hugging a cushion.

* * *

 

At the end of the week, Sesshōmaru showed Rin the family tree.

Much to his surprise, she had brought along her own family tree – and it included the ones that Sesshōmaru had lost track of almost two hundred years ago, somewhere in Nagasaki. Apparently, there had been no sons in the family, and so, the family name had changed for good – to Watanabe, the name that Rin still carried to this day. Sesshōmaru carefully copied the information while Rin watched Ayame play in the garden. But then, suddenly, they heard a loud roar.

Sesshōmaru immediately dropped the pen.

But as they rushed outside, both Sesshōmaru and Rin froze on the spot. Ayame had discovered Ah-Un, and had begun to play football with him. The dragon, surprised about this sudden company, had immediately joined her in her play. Rin’s jaw dropped at the sight of her daughter playing with an actual dragon, but much to Sesshōmaru’s surprise, she did not yell or call Ayame to her.

The moment Ah-Un spotted Rin, however, the dragon let out a heartbreaking howl.

Sesshōmaru looked at her. “He recognises your face,” he said to the shocked woman. “He knew her.”

Rin swallowed thickly, her eyes wide as Ah-Un suddenly moved towards her, but the dragon stopped right in front of her, only to lower his head down to her with a gentleness that one would not suspect coming from him.

“Mama! Can I have a dragon?” Ayame asked as she came to stand next to them, jumping up and down on the spot and patting Ah-Un’s side.

Rin laughed nervously, allowing the dragon to nuzzle her hands. “I… I don’t think we have the space for one, darling.”

Sesshōmaru watched Ah-Un closely, waiting for any sign of doubt that the dragon might have, but Ah-Un behaved as if their Rin had never died. Even her scent was the same, and for Ah-Un, she seemed to be the exact same person.

Reincarnation was an odd invention of the gods, indeed.

* * *

Slowly, the layer of ice that had kept Sesshōmaru’s heart firmly in its grasp began to melt.

It was not only the fact that he had become more patient with Ayame that told him that something had changed. It was not because he no longer dreaded having to live through another age. It was because for the first time, he thought less of the Rin he had once known, but more of the Rin that he could now already call his friend.

Over the course of the previous weeks, a friendship had developed between them. Every now and then, she would call him to ask if she could bring Ayame over, and each time, he agreed to it. Sometimes, she would bring him some of her homecooked food when she came to pick up her daughter. Each time, they would chat in the kitchen for a while over a cup of tea until Ayame’s favourite tv show was over, and sometimes, Sesshōmaru caught himself wishing for a second episode.

With every conversation that they had, he realised more and more that this Rin was indeed not the one that he had once known. They were similar, but not the same. But it was good that way. It was unnatural to yearn for what was gone, and Sesshōmaru had come to accept that a long time ago. His preferred method had been to not mention her ever again, to think of her as little as possible. But now, his method had changed. He allowed himself to think of the Rin that he had lost, and the memories he had for her were fond ones. She would always possess a part of his heart.

The rest of his heart, however, longed for someone else.

Ayame had already gotten into the car as he finally asked her, and as the words had finally come out, Rin looked at him with an expression on her face that Sesshōmaru could not identify. In her hands she held Ayame’s schoolbag and her jacket, but for a moment, it seemed as if she were about to drop them.

Sesshōmaru knew that his question had surely come unexpectedly. And so, he tried to explain himself.

“I know that this must sound very unusual,” he said calmly. “But I mean it. I do not wish for the past to repeat itself. I have no intention of trying to get back what I have lost. If anything, I have the intention to learn from my mistakes. I let her go, and it was good that way. You may look like her but I know that you are… you are not her.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I want to leave the past behind and start anew. And therefore, I would like to go out for-“

“Yes,” Rin said softly, and a light blush spread across her cheeks. “I would like to go out for dinner with you, too.”

Sesshōmaru exhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, silently thanking the kami.

“I know that this must have been very difficult for you, Sesshōmaru-san,” Rin said. “But if I am truly her reincarnation, then it surely must have been no coincidence that we met, don’t you think?”

Sesshōmaru smiled lightly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “The kami have an interesting sense of humour,” he said.

“Indeed,” Rin chuckled, just as Ayame blew the car horn. Her mother sighed. “I suppose I should take her home now.”

Sesshōmaru nodded. “I will call you,” he said.

At first, it seemed as if Rin would turn around and walk back to her car as usual. But then, she walked up the last few steps of the stairs and pressed a small, gentle kiss to his cheek. “Not if I call first,” she whispered.

He watched wordlessly as she walked back to the car and got inside, and as Ayame waved at him, he even raised his hand in return.

Sweet little thing.

The gate was still open, and so, Sesshōmaru walked down the path to close it himself. On the other side of the street stood the old Iwamura Shizue that owned the shop around the corner, staring at him with wide eyes, as if she had just seen the devil himself.

Sesshōmaru nodded at her in greeting, then closed the gate and walked back to the house.

In Kyoto, they had always called it the yōkai mansion.

From that day, on, however, people spoke kindly of the man that lived in it – for they had seen that he was not a monster, and as Iwamura Shizue swore to her customers that she had seen him kiss a woman, his old reputation began to fade.

It was not as if Sesshōmaru had cared.

That night, he lit a candle at the home altar for the Rin he had once known. But he also prayed for the one that he loved now.

And if the kami allowed it, he would never let her go again.

And for the kami, coincidences did not exist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap!
> 
> This story was meant to be short and sweet, and I hope that it is.


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised an epilogue, and here it is! It's been sitting in the document for more than a month now, but now that I reread it, I think it is a suitable ending. Calm, and peaceful.
> 
> (aka Sesshomaru's life until Ayame walked in, not giving a fuck)

“Please, Sesshōmaru, just this once.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“It is not ridiculous, it’s just an evening with my friends! You won’t be in the centre of attention anyway, I promise.”

“As if we had not been through enough already.”

“You behave as if I had forced you to walk naked through Gion.” Rin walked up to Sesshōmaru and smoothed out his shirt, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Just this once, please?” She looked up at him with what he always called her puppy gaze, and that he was unable to resist.

Sesshōmaru sighed deeply. “Fine,” he said. “Just this once. And then you will never force me to attend such an evening ever again.”

Rin chuckled and adjusted his tie. “Promise,” she said and let go of him for good, walking over to the cot in the corner right next to their bed. “Hm? Are you awake, little one? Yes, you are!” Rin cooed, reaching into the cot.

Sesshōmaru’s heart ached in his chest at the sight.

A few weeks after they had started dating, Rin had received a sudden termination of her rental agreement. Desperate and not sure where to go, she had turned to Sesshōmaru. And he had invited her and Ayame to come and live with him without thinking about it twice.

At first, Rin had assured him almost daily that this was only a temporary solution, and that she was trying to find another place for herself and Ayame. But as the weeks went by, and their bond deepened, she began to speak less of it. Six months after they had moved in with him, she had stopped mentioning it altogether. Sesshōmaru had never been happier.

Ayame had started to call him Otō-san a while later.

Ten months after they had started dating, Sesshōmaru had asked Rin to marry him. He had already wasted 500 years of his life, and he was not willing to waste any more. Much to his surprise, Rin had accepted his proposal on the spot. That night, he had taken her out for a walk, and they had watched the stars together by the canal until she had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder.

One year later, they had welcomed their son into the world.

Rin smiled happily at their little boy as she lifted him into her arms, rocking him back and forth. “Ready to meet everyone, little man?” She asked him, kissing his forehead. “You look almost as grumpy as your daddy.”

Sesshōmaru huffed, walking up to her and standing behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be daft. He does not even know what that means.”

“Oh he does, believe me,” Rin grinned and patted their son’s back. “Right, Akito?”

The name had been Rin’s idea. At first, she had wanted Sesshōmaru to choose their son’s name, but Sesshōmaru had not been able to think of one that would not remind him of the past. Rin had even suggested to name him after his father, but naming a child after Tōga had seemed inappropriate to Sesshōmaru. No, he would honour his father’s name in a different way.

Akito yawned in his mother’s arms and fell back asleep almost immediately.

“Mamaaaa!” Ayame pushed the bedroom door open and walked in, wrapping her short arms around Sesshōmaru’s legs. “They are waiting!!!”

“Right,” Rin said and went to the door, glancing at Sesshōmaru once more. “You’re coming?”

Sesshōmaru sighed and reached down for Ayame, picking her up.

“Your mother is a witch,” he said to the girl as they walked downstairs together. “She makes me do things I don’t want to do.”

“Then you are a wizard,” Ayame concluded. “You make me do my homework.”

“That is something else,” Sesshōmaru replied and kissed her cheek. Once they had reached the bottom of the stairs, he put her down again, watching her run after Rin who had gone to meet her friends that she had invited for that evening.

Sesshōmaru had never been a social person. The previous centuries he had spent in solitude except for the few decades he had travelled in Jaken’s company – and the few years he had spent with the little Rin, of course. After that, he had returned to his previous habit of living alone, and it had stayed that way until Ayame had come into his life. And Rin, of course.

The things she made him do would make the old Rin laugh, that he was sure of. She would cry tears of laughter if she could see him now, greeting the friends of his wife, pretending not to be bothered by the smell of tons of _humans_ in his home. It was only for this one afternoon, he kept telling himself as Rin introduced him to her curious friends from work. Their wedding had been a quiet and private affair, with only Ayame present to witness the ceremony. Therefore, it was only natural that Rin’s friends were dying to meet him, and since he was a yōkai, they were even more curious.

Fortunately, they quickly seemed to be more interested in Akito than in Sesshōmaru, and he sat down on the sofa with Ayame on his lap, watching Rin’s friends fuss over his son. Hanyō children were rare, even in this age, but their lives weren’t characterised by hardship anymore. Akito would have it easier than Inuyasha. That he would make sure of. Akito had a mother and father that loved him, and a sister that would fiercely protect him in every situation.

Sesshōmaru glanced down at the girl on his lap. Ayame was very much like him and hated big crowds, and so, she stayed close to him, peacefully braiding his hair while humming the theme tune of her favourite tv show.

The only person he had ever allowed to touch his hair had been the old Rin. She had been the only one he had trusted with it. When the Rin of today had touched it the first time – during a wonderfully long session of making out on his sofa he was sitting on right now, right after their fourth date – he had flinched back at first. But then, he had reminded himself of the fact that he trusted her, and that he had to move on.

There was no greater tender feeling than the one of her hands in his hair.

“He really is patient with Ayame,” Sesshōmaru heard one of Rin’s friends giggle. “Almost as if he were her real dad.”

“He’s better than her real dad, that’s for sure,” another woman said. “You’re so lucky, Rin. What a catch!”

Sesshōmaru looked away.

“You have to hold still, Otō-san!” Ayame chirped, bouncing on his lap and tugging on his shirt. “I will make you a beautiful plait!”

“Hm?” Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he turned his head to look down at her, finding her looking at him in firm determination. Just like her mother when she wanted to get her way.

“Such a sweet pair!” Rin’s friend laughed, clearly watching them.

Sesshōmaru pulled himself together, exhaling deeply. “I’m holding still, see?”

Ayame grinned and continued with her work.

* * *

 

The evening went on without any disturbances, and when the last guest had finally left, Sesshōmaru was visibly relieved. Rin was waving her friends goodbye at the door, and Sesshōmaru took the time to scoop up Ayame to carry her to her room – she had fallen asleep on the couch a while ago.

The room had been nothing but a storage closet before Rin and Ayame had moved in with him, but thanks to Rin, it now had become a little paradise for a school girl. Sesshōmaru kicked a few toys out of the way as he carried Ayame to her bed, putting her down on the mattress where she instinctively curled up around her favourite stuffed animal.

Sesshōmaru tucked her in, making sure she was warm before he turned out the lights again and went back downstairs. Rin was already in the living room, picking up the empty plates and glasses her friends had left behind. Sesshōmaru joined her wordlessly, picking up empty bottles and taking them out. The night sky was what the people of this age would call clear, but it was in no way like the sky had been five hundred years ago. Sesshōmaru inhaled deeply, trying to remember what the air used to taste like.

Humankind was slowly ruining the planet. And he was there to witness it all.

But this time, he was not alone. Not anymore.

Sesshōmaru went back inside and walked upstairs, hearing Rin hum a simple tune in the bathroom next to their bedroom, probably removing the make up that she did not need in Sesshōmaru’s eyes. She was beautiful enough without it. He told her that almost every day, and each time, she would blush and kiss his cheek, only to put on lipstick a second later.

Like the old Rin, she was stubborn. But Sesshōmaru would not want to have it any other way.

He entered their room and turned on the light by the bed, glancing into the cot standing on Rin’s side for a moment. Akito was sleeping calmly, oblivious to the world around him. He was still small, only a little older than five months, but soon, he would begin to crawl, and then to walk, and the years would pass and he would grow into a man, not knowing of the life that he would have had as a hanyō in a different time.

Sesshōmaru sat down on the edge of the bed, never taking his eyes off his son. He had never thought that he would have a child of his own one day, let alone a child with Rin. Although he knew that the woman he had married was not the Rin he had once known – and he would have never dared to think of her as a substitute or even a copy – it almost felt as if he had received a second chance. And this Sesshōmaru was determined not to let it go to waste.

The bedroom door was shut behind him, and a moment later he felt Rin’s soft arms around him, and her lips on his cheek. “You look sad,” she said softly. “Are you sad?”

Sesshōmaru shook his head. “Of course not,” he said, turning his head towards her. “I was just thinking about something.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rin asked, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course.”

Sesshōmaru shifted on the mattress, turning around to her completely to pull her closer. “I was just reminding myself of how fortunate I am.”

“Oh?” Rin said in surprise, leaning against him and taking his hand. “And what makes you so fortunate?” She asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes with her puppy eyes. “Could it be me, by any chance?”

Sesshōmaru huffed. “Of course it is you, Rin,” he said and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You and Ayame and Akito. I am grateful for what I have.”

Rin smiled and rested her head on his shoulder, playing with his hand. “You always pretend to be so reserved, but deep down, you’re a hopeless romantic,” she said. “Even my friends could see that. You and Ayame made a very cute picture together. She loves you very much, you know. You didn’t even protest when she started to call you Otō-san.”

“As if I had had any choice in that matter,” Sesshōmaru murmured and nuzzled her hair.

“You always had a choice,” Rin replied sleepily. “But you chose us.”

Indeed.

He had always had a choice. Back then, five hundred years ago, he had made the choice of keeping his feelings to himself. He had watched Rin grow old and die, surrounded by a family that was hers and hers alone. He had made the choice of living the rest of his life in solitude, ignoring the rest of the world.

And then, one day, Ayame had rang his doorbell, and the new Rin had come into his life.

“I chose you,” Sesshōmaru murmured, kissing her hair.

And it was a choice he would make over and over again.


End file.
